A bug is going around my office. Expectedly, I contracted it. I've been popping Vitamin C tablets every day and going to bed at 7PM whenever possible, but it hasn't seemed to remedy the illness and I'm a walking zombie most of the time. How pleasant.

One would think that the best thing about Saturday mornings is having the glorious opportunity to sleep in after a long and strenuous workweek, especially when one is sick. That's not usually the case in Washington; even though the days are getting markedly shorter, weekends are still when the city opens up like a spring flower. Once every seven days, DC's busiest inhabitants (like the John Glenn Fellows) finally get a chance to explore what surrounds them and really take in what the capital has to offer.

The biggest reason for me to wake up on Saturday, I've discovered, is to make my way down to Eastern Market. I go for the grocery shopping (the produce is mostly local and seasonal); I go for the atmosphere; I go for the interesting art. But mostly I go because it's a great excuse to pick up a delicious, piping hot crepe. Mitch, who runs "Crepes at the Market", the ultimate food cart, toils away all morning and afternoon over three hot griddles, folding sweet and savory crepes like a true culinary artist. Being first in line for this Parisian treat is [almost] the perfect reason to wake up early on a Saturday morning.

And so I ventured out yesterday, not planning on letting a mere virus stand in the way of realizing my WAIP experience to its fullest. I threw open my blinds, gargled some antiseptic, closed my laptop, and walked eastward to the market. I went straight to the crepe tent and ordered the first scrumptious option on the list du jour. I waited patiently in the bright sunlight, casually noticing a kit of five or six pigeons eating out of a dog food bowl (though this may have been a fever dream, induced by illness combined with the heat of the nearby stove). I was eventually handed a beautiful newspaper-wrapped, walnut-raspberry-chocolate stuffed pancake. Two bites into it I realized, sadly, that Mitch's creativity was no match for the common cold: despite the usual transcendent flavor of these crepes, I simply could not taste mine. At least, I hoped, they possessed the power to cure all disease - never underestimate Crepes at the Market. I still made sure to pick up a half dozen oranges on my way out, just for good measure.

JCanfil